on duty and she apparently shuffled some of them around. We're more than happy to straighten things out, of course. Now, if you will just tell me what you have and what you were supposed to have, I'll make the adjustment as quickly as possible.'

Henry was taken slightly aback by this approach. "Now just a min- ute! I'm not done yet-there's another issue here . . .'

"What is that, sir?”

"Why-er, that is now look! My wife went to considerable time and trouble to select these things. You can imagine how she felt when I opened her gifts and instead of-what's that?" Henry asked as the clerk set three identical boxes beside those he had brought.

"I believe these are yours, sir.” replied the clerk. "Bathrobe, slippers and shirts." He quickly picked up Henry's three boxes and looked in each. He seemed to be smiling, Henry thought and then was even further surprised by what could only be tears. Good heavens! Was the man going to bawl simply because of a mistake?

In a not-too-stead voice, the clerk said, "You were talking about disappointments, embarrassment—I sympathize with you sir. I know exactly what you mean.”

"But-But—” sputtered Henry. "If you're expecting a bathrobe and you get this thing—” he pointed angrily at the peignoir. “—not that it's not pretty and all that, but I ask you, if you expect a sensible bathrobe and-and-" he was groping for words.

"On the other hand," said the clerk, “just imagine how the person felt who was supposed to get the peignoir but found instead your crummy bathrobe and slippers!"

"Well-but you still don't understand what I mean!" insisted Henry

"I understand exactly what you mean, and how you feel. You see- the clerk's voice sank to a whisper as he tenderly lifted the peignoir out of the box and looked at it. “—you see, Mr. Wilson—these are mine!”